


The Merchant of Paris

by Remasa



Series: Unconventional Scenarios [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gabriel is a decent person, Gen, Hawk Moth is Gabriel Agreste, Humor, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-04 11:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remasa/pseuds/Remasa
Summary: Tempted with the prospect of luring Ladybug and Chat Noir, Gabriel agrees to Adrien’s idea of running a booth at another Ladybug and Chat Noir convention. Hoping to distract his son while he keeps a watchful eye out for the heroes, he allows Adrien to bring one friend with him to assist in selling the merchandise. When Adrien asks Marinette to help, Gabriel realizes this may also be the perfect opportunity to get his son's mind off of Ladybug.Sequel toResident Expert.





	1. Pre-Convention

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through Season Two.
> 
> This is a sequel to [Resident Expert](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255148), and fits in the same universe as [Fanboy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045871) and [Cosplay Contest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126799). It's advisable that those are read first.
> 
> Additionally, Gabriel does _NOT_ know that Adrien is Chat Noir. I know what has occurred in season two thus far, and while it may or may not conflict with canon, Gabriel _NOT_ knowing works better for this story.

_Pre-Convention_

“A what?” Gabriel stepped back and attempted to read the words on the piece of paper Adrien waved in his face. He reached out and grabbed it, scanning over the contents.

“A booth!” his son exclaimed. His eyes glowed in excitement and he bounced on his feet, pointing to the relevant section. “The deadline for submitting the application to reserve a booth in the Ladybug and Chat Noir convention in two months is tomorrow.”

So he had heard correctly the first time. “And why would you want to reserve a booth?”

“To sell stuff,” Adrien replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Gabriel closed his eyes, willing the impending headache to hold off for a few moments longer. “Why would you need to sell stuff?” His eyes snapped open as a surge of fatherly instinct shot through him. “Do you need money? Are you in some kind of trouble?” His alter ego would handle it if Adrien was being threatened or coerced or --

“No, nothing like that,” Adrien replied. He fiddled with his fingers for a bit. “I just wanted to see if we could maybe do something different at this convention.”

“I am not selling my company's merchandise through an outside vendor, Adrien,” Gabriel said, shutting his son down immediately. It would be a PR nightmare if word got out that he was selling _Gabriel_ clothes through unofficial sources. It would only encourage more counterfeiters and make it that much harder to maintain the quality of his brand.

“No, no, no,” the younger blond cut in, “I wouldn't ask you to do that. I was thinking of selling... other stuff. Something new. I could help you with the designs and we could sell them together.”

Okay, more questions and even less answers. Time to start being a bit more forceful.

“Adrien, tell me the truth. Why do you want to sell things in this booth?” He leveled his sternest expression at his son.

Another shuffle. More fidgeting. Gabriel held out. At last, Adrien sighed. “Alya said there's a rumor that Ladybug and Chat Noir might appear at this convention. I thought maybe if we had something unique to show them, she-- er, _they_ might stop by.”

He held up a hand to stop Adrien from rambling and his son trailed off. The boy had him at “Ladybug and Chat Noir might appear.” Still, he couldn't help the faint amusement ghosting across his face at his son's obvious infatuation toward Ladybug (even if she was his enemy). He nodded. “Fine,” he agreed, and Adrien visibly perked up. “But,” he added and Adrien deflated slightly, “while I will design the merchandise and be at the convention to supervise, _you_ will be the one to sell the products. Agreed?”

The younger blond flung himself at Gabriel and swung his arms around Gabriel's midsection, startling the older designer. “Thank you, Father!” he exclaimed, squeezing him tight. Gabriel rested his hands upon his son's shoulders.

“I'll allow you to bring one friend to help,” he added, knowing that having a friend could successfully distract Adrien and possibly allow Gabriel to slip around and look for his goal. Embarrassing memories of past events came to mind and he shoved them back with ruthless savagery. After all, as long as he avoided any of the cosplay contests or panel talks, he wouldn't have anything to regret this time, right?

He ignored the prickling sensation across the back of his neck.

“What were you thinking of selling?” he asked.

Adrien pulled back and launched into a long list of items – scarves, hats, gloves, purses and wallets, and maybe a few keychains. Wow.

“Accessories then,” Gabriel summarized. Adrien nodded. “Why those?”

“There are plenty of vendors who sell common things like T-shirts, mugs, and even artwork. I know that we can create something that's a bit classier. Stuff that, while fan merchandise, could be used in everyday situations.”

“A more adult version of fanservice?” Gabriel clarified.

Adrien nodded. “Yes, exactly!”

He thought on that for a moment. The merchandise he had seen at previous fairs and conventions certainly fell into the “cheap and gaudy” category, even if that didn't dissuade his son from collecting a closet full of the stuff. Some tasteful contributions to the fandom merchandise line would definitely be a boon. Gabriel reached into his desk and withdrew a fresh pad. Best to keep these sketches separate from his brand's line. “Do you have any ideas for designs?”

And once again, Adrien bombarded him with descriptions of various inspirations. Gabriel scribbled furiously to keep up with his son's excited rambling.

“I think this might be enough, Adrien,” Gabriel halted the stream of consciousness as he scanned over nearly a full page of notes. “I'm not sure I'll have enough time to get all of this together.”

Adrien frowned a moment, biting his lip. “I... hmm, okay, Father,” he said. Gabriel's hand stilled at that. What was he going to say? He almost called his son out on it, but Adrien backed away quickly with a “I'll let you get to work” and disappeared before Gabriel could reply. Shrugging, Gabriel returned to his sketchbook, starting to form a more coherent picture of Adrien's vision.

It turned out, he didn't have to wait much longer to figure out what Adrien was going to say. The next afternoon, there was a flurry of noise in the foyer. Curiosity overtaking him, he headed out to investigate the sounds. He discovered Adrien standing in the expansive entryway with a girl who tugged at his memory banks, but couldn't quite place. His eyes narrowed.

“Trust me, Marinette, it'll be fine,” his son was saying. “My father told me I could have someone to help out. Nino flat-out refused instantly.”

There was an unintelligible mumble in response before Adrien continued. “I know Alya is taking the opportunity to attend with Nino. She kind of pushed you into this, so I guess if you don't want to...” Adrien trailed off.

The girl – Marinette – beside him waved her hands and this time her voice carried up to Gabriel. “No, no, it's not that at all,” she said. “I just don't know... your father is okay with this? I mean, I understand helping out with selling his designs, but I really don't know if I'm good enough to assist him beforehand.”

Adrien scoffed and Gabriel was struck with a sudden vivid image of his son falling for this girl – this girl who was decidedly _not_ Ladybug. A perfect distraction so he wouldn't have to grind his teeth with the thought that his son was dating his archenemy. “Don't be ridiculous, Marinette,” he replied. “Father liked your hat design and he complimented your workmanship. I'm not asking you to present your own designs to him, but he said he wouldn't have enough time to make everything, so you could help him with the labor part of it.”

Marinette still looked unconvinced. “Maybe you should clear this with your father first. I don't want to get on his bad side. He has really high standards. I don't know if I'm up to those standards. He might not want some kid ruining his brand's image.”

Gabriel wondered when the opportune time would be to clear his throat and join in the conversation without making it appear he had been eavesdropping the entire time. Bits of memories were coming back to him the longer he stood there listening. A feathered derby hat. A fiery defense. Adrien sneezing. A hyperactive 'admirer' returning his prized book. His head spinning with the onslaught of rushed explanations for its disappearance. Questions and answers. His own cordial responses.

One thing was crystal clear: this girl was no mere child. If his memories correctly aligned with the image in front of him, then she would make a passable assistant for doing the grunt work for Adrien's little pet project. And perhaps he could nudge them together. Subtly, of course. Kill two birds with one stone.

The two had continued their back and forth arguing, oblivious to his towering figure on the stairs. Well, he had tuned them the last few minutes, so this might be a good time to feign ignorance and announce his presence since he had lost track of their conversation anyway.

“Good afternoon,” he said, shuffling a few steps to appear as if he just walked out of his office. The two teenagers jumped at the sound of his voice. “Adrien didn't tell me he was bringing a friend over.”

Both of their heads whipped over. The girl paled. Adrien stepped forward. “Father,” he began, “this is Marinette. She's my good friend from class.” Gabriel's eyes flickered over to her for a second as Adrien powered through the introduction. She flushed. His attention was drawn back to his son. “Marinette agreed to help me sell the stuff at the convention. And she also agreed to help you out making the merchandise. You said you couldn't get everything done on time, but now maybe you can.”

“I see,” Gabriel said, if only to say something to break the endless babble. “I'm not certain I need any assistance, however, and if I did I think I could reallocate one of my own designers.”

“And take away from your upcoming line?” Adrien shot back. Gabriel almost stepped backward in surprise. This was interesting. Had his son actually planned for this argument? The corners of his eyes crinkled as he attempted to suppress a smile. He failed.

“You have a fair point,” he conceded.

Adrien doubled down, stepping forward with a determined glint in his eyes that sent a shiver of familiarity through Gabriel. “Marinette's good enough to be recognized by you, even if you don't remember. You praised her craftsmanship a few months back.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to inform Adrien that he in fact, did remember, when Adrien pointed to Marinette's pink purse. “She made that herself,” he added. “Go on, you can examine it closer if you want. This should prove that she's good enough to help with our accessories.”

His eyes averted naturally to follow the focal point of the conversation – the purse – but he found himself staring into an ashen expression instead. Marinette stepped back out of Adrien's reach and clutched her purse to her chest, startling both father and son as she cradled it, suddenly terrified.

“N-not this purse,” she stammered, her eyes wide and her breathing ragged.

“Marinette?” Adrien asked.

She inhaled slowly, and the caged animal fright gradually seeped out of her. “I'm sorry,” she apologized at last, meek and contrite. “This purse is special to me. I can demonstrate my skills should you so desire, Mr. Agreste, but I would rather you not examine this purse.”

With how ferociously his wife used to guard her own purse and the contents within, he could relate to that at least. “That won't be necessary, Miss Marinette,” he said, making a mental note to have a talk with his son on personal boundaries. “I am in agreement with my son. If you would like to assist me, I would not object.”

“Really?” she breathed out.

“Indeed. It would be quite unfair to ask you to devote every afternoon to this commitment, especially at the behest of my son, so I would not be remiss to coordinating a schedule with you that works around your schooling and various after-school activities.” Plus, he still needed valuable akumatizing time and he couldn't very well do that with an overeager teenager underfoot for the next eight or so weeks before the convention. “Let's start with two or three times weekly and adjust accordingly?” he suggested and she immediately nodded her head in agreement. He figured three times a week would be his upper limit to dealing with stammery teenagers anyway.

It turned out he set the bar way too low with Marinette. Not only was she coherent and succinct around him, but her work was flawless and swift. And once he coaxed her out of her shell, she provided more than a few suggestions and ideas to add to their collection. Adrien's collection. Why was he thinking it was his effort too? It was all Adrien's idea. He wanted nothing to do with the heroes.

When she first started, Adrien used to stop by the room to peek his head in and ask how things were going. He probably hoped to act as a buffer between the two of them. It admittedly took Gabriel a few times to notice that Marinette's stammers and flustered actions came about not as a result of being in _his_ presence, but rather _Adrien's._ He allowed it, more out of amusement at watching the two of them interact (even if Marinette tended to get startled when he first walked in). The two kids soon fell into a quiet routine as Adrien tended to linger longer and longer, asking what he could do to help. Gabriel was surprised that his son was so eager to assist when he often had expressed his dislike towards that side of the business in years past. Marinette took the opportunity to teach Adrien some basic skills – and soon Gabriel had him sewing tiny buttons on gloves as she sat beside him and beaded a matching hat.

Despite his irritation at the event in general, he found himself looking forward to the interactions of his son and his talented “good friend”. Maybe, just maybe Adrien would soon forget about the red hero of Paris and focus on a more tangible relationship. As the deadline approached, he found himself increasing the amount of time put into this annoyance of a project, and Marinette spent every afternoon the last week in his atelier, carefully sewing under his strict guidance with Adrien dutifully by her side.

He took the opportunity to try to figure out the exact relationship between her and his son on the days Adrien was at fencing practice or Chinese lessons. “Friends” his oblivious child claimed, but her squeaks and blushes indicated at least infatuation on her part. And not just the blasé “admirer” that she attempted to pass off when she returned his book, either. He felt a slight twinge of camaraderie that he only felt with one other person – ironically, his nemesis when she gazed in blissful awe at his son's modeling pictures. At least he didn't feel an equally powerful surge of hatred toward Marinette as he did the black-spotted thorn-in-his-side.

Now if only he could get his son to stop being so stubborn. He was still kicking himself for letting it slip that Ladybug was enamored with him. He seriously debated creating an akuma that would lock Adrien and Marinette in a bubble of some kind together. Then he recalled his last encounter with a bubble-creating akuma and immediately banished that thought to the back of his mind.

He always had better luck with the love-struck akumas anyway.

Speaking of which, this little side project of his had severely cut into his Miraculous-stealing attempts. Because his afternoons were filled with stuttery teenagers and his mornings were taken up with running his _actual_ business, that left only the evenings to attempt to create akumas. And there weren't that many volatile emotions available in the twilight hours in Paris at this time of year. So he only got to akumatize maybe one person a week.

He wondered if he could distract Marinette with something Adrien related and sneak away to his lair. She could be willfully ignorant of her surroundings whenever his son entered the picture. Would she even notice if he abruptly vanished into his lair?

After this whole event was over, he would definitely make up for lost time.

But at long last (and many missed weeks of akuma opportunities) the day was upon them. The event coordinators instructed all vendors to sign in on Friday evening and set up so they could iron out any bugs. Reluctantly, and with an excited pair of teenagers in tow, Gabriel instructed his driver to head over to the enormous Paris Convention Centre on the southern end of the city and they piled out, both Adrien and Marinette eagerly gushing over the booth. Gabriel noted how Marinette lost all trace of nervousness around his son whenever she was successfully distracted by something. Was that perhaps the key? To keep her from thinking that she's with _Adrien_ and instead distract her into thinking he's just another friend?

They found the end of the queue and navigated through the lines. Gabriel refrained from grinding his teeth at the saturation of Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise surrounding him, but he couldn't help but sniff at a few nearby vendors once he was actually shown his spot. His icy blue eyes swept around the room. Honestly, did those people actually think that cheap plastic would hold up under any considerable amount of use? And just look at the color combination, how gaudy. He heard a chuckle beside him and turned to discover Adrien and Marinette watching him. Adrien had a smarmy grin plastered on his face as if he could read Gabriel's thoughts while Marinette seemed more fascinated than worried.

“If this is our competition,” Gabriel said, attempting to explain himself, “then we have nothing to fear. Do they actually sell those things?” His eyes slid back over to the pile of crumpled... cat's ears? Ugh. He was so glad Adrien decided on some tasteful merchandise. He didn't think he could pretend to gush over tacky decisions if his son had decided to go that route, no matter how much his cover depended upon it.

He focused on examining the space provided to him. One table and two awkward folding chairs. No outlets. Hmm. His mind whirled, already documenting things he would need to bring the next day. He was grateful he had actually decided to come out the day before. At least one other chair, and preferably not one that would leave him cursing more than usual at the end of the weekend because of a sore back.

Marinette tilted her head in critical examination, too. “Uhm, how were you planning on handling the sales?” she asked and Gabriel turned to her in surprise. “My parents have a metal cashbox that they use when selling their stuff outside of the shop. I can borrow it.”

“Thank you, that would be nice,” Gabriel replied, not bothering to point out that his company probably had several similar items at the main branch. If she wanted to feel useful, he wasn't going to shoot her down for it.

“Do you have a credit card reader?” she continued. “You might need...” she trailed off and scanned the area. “Yeah, you're probably going to need a mobile hotspot to ensure that the transactions don't lag. Competing with all the other vendors for online sale transactions will just slow things down.”

Adrien stared at her in open admiration as she rattled off practical considerations to their space. Gabriel, however, quirked a grin. “Thank you, Miss Marinette,” he said. “I can acquire all of these items. You have quite the sensible head with regards to business,” he praised and she flushed.

“It's from my parents,” she explained sheepishly, as if she just remembered that _he_ also ran a successful business. He took out his phone and began to compose a message to Nathalie to have her gather the required items for tomorrow.

They left, and Gabriel had his driver drop Marinette off at her home before continuing onward, silently noting the comfortable chatter that flowed between the teenagers. Everything was coming together nicely.

 


	2. Day One

_Day One_

The next morning, Gabriel's driver stopped outside of the bakery to pick up Marinette. He heard Adrien's sharp inhale beside him and glanced up through the window. The bakery door opened and she walked out with her father, both of them carrying objects. Marinette clutched a bundle of... was that metal poles and canvas? Her father held two boxes in his meaty hands. But that wasn't what caught his eye.

Marinette was dressed in black capris with red polka dots on the cuffs. She wore a deep burgundy camisole with a sheer black overlay shirt covered in opaque spots, in addition to bits of red lace that edged the bottom. She carried a Ladybug theme beaded purse with tassels hanging below it, reminiscent of the American Roarin' Twenties style. Her father opened the door and she ducked her head inside.

“Good morning,” she greeted with a smile. “We managed to dig up some more comfortable chairs.” She motioned to the bundle in her arms. His driver had already exited to open the trunk. Marinette dropped the folded chairs in and slid beside Adrien. Her father handed her the two boxes. “Thanks, Papa!” she exclaimed as he wished them good luck and to have fun, while also thanking Gabriel for looking after her. The designer nodded and replied in kind, and then they were off.

“You look great, Marinette,” Adrien complimented, the first words out of his mouth.

True to form, Marinette flushed under the praise and stammered out a thanks.

Gabriel quickly agreed with his son's assessment, and added a few compliments on top. “Did you make that yourself?” he asked.

She nodded. “I thought perhaps I could dress up to reflect the type of merchandise we're selling,” she said. “I have a Chat Noir outfit planned for tomorrow, too.”

The blissful look of adoration on his son's face told him all he needed to know about Adrien's opinion of that statement.

“And your purse?”

She flushed, unlooping the strap from around her shoulder and held it out to Gabriel. “I made this also. You can examine this one if you want.”

He took it, eyeing the beading with critical care. She had improved her already stellar skills under the short time, helping him with the designs, and it showed in her latest creation. “This is very detailed, Miss Marinette,” he praised, “how long did it take you to make?”

And without any further prodding on his part, she launched into a long-winded explanation of her plans, designs, and obstacles she had to overcome to create the purse. He occasionally interrupted to clarify things or to add suggestions for future endeavors, but for the most part let her gush about her passion. Adrien sat and watched them both with a large smile on his face.

As they neared the convention center, the conversation faded and Adrien pointed to the boxes. “What's in there?” he asked.

“Oh! Well, Papa wasn't sure how much downtime we were going to get, so he packed us some snacks and a lunch.”

Adrien's eyes lit up. “Any quiche?” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Of course,” Marinette replied with a giggle. “Papa remembered how much you enjoyed the last one. He was so pleased.”

When had his son ever sampled foods from this bakery? He couldn't recall anytime that Adrien would have been into the shop. He didn't object to it, but he found himself lost in his thoughts about what else he might not know about his son's activities.

Argh, if only he could just get the Miraculouses already, then he could fix all of his mistakes and move on.

The arrival at the conference center snapped him out of his melancholy thoughts, but the damage was done. His mood had considerably soured in the short span, and he knew it wouldn't be improved by sitting around all day surrounded by facsimiles of the heroes.

His bodyguard quickly hefted the folded chairs in his arms. Gabriel gathered up his bags and notebooks. Marinette held the metal cashbox and a rolled up piece of fabric.

“What's that?” Adrien inquired, pointing to the roll that had escaped unnoticed until now.

She smiled. “You'll just have to wait and find out,” she teased. And Gabriel hid a smile, allowing their banter to cheer him slightly. This girl was growing on him more and more and he hoped that she would be able to successfully distract Adrien.

His son scoffed and grabbed the bakery boxes instead. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“I think I shall,” she returned. “I have many of them.”

His son leaned in close with a wink, drawing a surprised blush on the young girl's face. “As do I,” he said in a low voice. “I am a man of mystery.”

Before she could squeak out a reply, he straightened and followed Gabriel's bodyguard inside, leaving the flustered young girl in his wake. She jumped when he cleared his throat and hurried after Adrien. Gabriel brought up the rear.

When they arrived at their booth, Marinette unfurled the rolled up fabrics to reveal her secret: not one piece of fabric, but two. A red and black long rectangle that she draped over as a tablecloth and another canvas-like piece that read “Charms, Accessories, and Totes”. She giggled as she held it up.

“I thought we should advertise what we're selling,” she explained.

Adrien beamed at her and Gabriel nodded in approval.

“That was a smart decision, Miss Marinette.”

“It's a pun,” Adrien exclaimed, and Gabriel did a double take as his son gleefully pointed out the section. “C.A.T. Was that intentional?”

Oh dear lord, he hoped not. One obnoxious punmaster in his life was more than eno--

“Yep.”

Whelp, so much for that.

“I thought Chat Noir would appreciate it and we could use it to lure him down to our booth,” she explained.

“Oh,” Adrien remarked, “I'm certain he would. It's purrfect.”

Oh no, not his son, too. Puns were only good when _he_ was allowed to make them. Preferably alone in his lair so no one could witness his spectacular play on words. He turned away from the two kids and began to set up the different card reader machines and fiddle with the settings on the hotspot on his tablet.

They set up in a short time, with his bodyguard and the teenagers hauling in merchandise. From the sounds of things as they giggled on their way in, Marinette had tripped over something again and Adrien had swooped in and caught her at the last minute. They sheepishly set the boxes down beside him and he got to work arranging the items in the best manner to display their wares.

He dismissed his bodyguard for the rest of the day, knowing that neither of them would need him in this venue and should he decide to sneak away and akumatize someone, he didn't need to escape the prying eyes of three people. He hoped if it came to that that the two teens in front of him wouldn't notice his absence for a while. If they were sufficiently distracted.

And then the doors open, and the people flooded in. Gabriel took a seat in his chair, pulled out his tablet, and began to conduct some business for his company as the convention goers streamed in around him. Adrien and Marinette struck up a friendly enough conversation with each other – something about school – and did their best to attract people to their booth.

After an hour or so, the initial rush died down. The teens had had plenty of interested nibbles, but had yet to make a single sale. It was a bit disheartening to watch. Gabriel knew that they could go all weekend and not sell a single item. That was just the bad luck of merchandising sometimes.

Adrien eyed the boxes. “Care for a mid-morning snack?” he offered. Marinette smiled.

“I'm not too hungry just yet,” she said. “But I am thirsty. I'm going to go get us some drinks. Think you can handle things until I return?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied. Marinette grabbed her purse and soon vanished into the crowd.

They spent a few moments in silence. Adrien staring out at the crowd of people and Gabriel attempting to figure out a way to delicately bring up his son's relationship with Marinette. He couldn't think of an adequate way of phrasing his questions without sounding direct and nosy. Subtlety was never his strong suit.

A flurry of commotion caught both of their attentions before Gabriel could come up with a topic of casual conversation. Both father and son looked over to see an enormous crowd of people swarming a figure in red. They drew closer, and Gabriel recognized a cosplayer in a Ladybug outfit.

Wait.

No way. Not a cosplayer. That was Ladybug herself, wandering through the convention hall.

Adrien perked up, his hand automatically raising to smooth his already perfect hair. Gabriel's expression darkened at the sudden change in his son and scowled at the approaching red hero, hoping she would take the hint in his icy expression and pass by without a glance.

No such luck.

“Oh, isn't this the cutest little booth,” she exclaimed, immediately spotting them and making a beeline toward the two of them. Adrien beamed. Gabriel suppressed a snarl.

“Thank you, Ladybug,” Adrien exclaimed.

“It's good to see you again, Adrien,” she said, and her gaze slid over to him. “And you too, Mr. Agreste.”

“Ladybug,” he said, inclining his head in a polite nod. After all, despite his disdain toward the heroes, he had to maintain the illusion that he was a huge fan. At least this confirmed that one of the heroes was in attendance.

“Did you design all of these yourself?” she inquired, and Gabriel didn't know if she was asking him or Adrien. She was staring at Adrien, but surely she knew that his son was no designer.

Thankfully, Adrien answered for them both. “Father designed the majority of the pieces, and my friend Marinette and I helped make them.”

“Oh? That explains why they're so innovative.” She picked up a dainty cloche hat and examined the stitching on it – black thread on pale blue felt detailing the erratic flight of an embroidered ladybug. Simple, classy, and elegant, with a hint of whimsical. Typical for Gabriel Agreste's fashions. “This is amazing work. Where is your friend Marinette?”

“She went to go get drinks for us,” Adrien explained. “I'll tell her you stopped by. She'll be disappointed she missed you.”

“Ah, well then I might have to stop by again just to see if any of these items remain. I might pick up one or two for myself.” She set the hat back down.

“Are you going to be here the whole weekend?” Adrien asked, breathless and wide-eyed.

She hummed and nodded. His son glowed with happiness. Gabriel wanted to strangle the heroine right then and there. “But I won't be always in my Ladybug suit.” She glanced behind her at the sizable crowd, many of which were holding cell phones up and snapping video and pictures. “I want to enjoy everything this event has to offer.”

“You'll be in your civilian form?”

Gabriel listened closer here, as well, as Adrien breathed out the question and leaned forward. He didn't want to miss any hints that could unravel Ladybug's identity.

“Of course,” she answered. “I can't very well put on a hat and coat and blend in.” She ducked close to Adrien with a sultry wink. “The mask would still give me away.”

Adrien giggled – _giggled_ – and Gabriel never wanted someone to both simultaneously vanish and get closer to him than at this moment. He was still too far to snatch the earrings, and he wouldn't dare do so in front of so many witnesses (with cameras!) and yet his hands twitched, itching to transform even if to only get that blasted hero away from his son.

“I should probably get going,” Ladybug said, and Gabriel couldn't agree with her more. “I hope your booth does well this weekend,” she said, and this time she fixed Gabriel with a kind smile. “But if they're your designs, I daresay they will. You're my favorite designer, after all. I'm glad to hear you're one of our biggest fans.”

 

 

And with that, she vanished back into the crowd of people as they surged around her. Gabriel blinked a few times before her final words registered in his mind. He was her favorite designer? But... did that mean that she was into fashion as well? Should he be narrowing his search down to fledgling teenagers with a penchant for designing? Or did she simply say that because of her infatuation with Adrien? No, she had looked at _him_ when she said that, not his son. That had to mean that she _was_ interested in fashion. This could be helpful. He hurried to jot down his thoughts in his tablet, instantly syncing them with the files at home.

The crowd disappeared, no doubt trailing after Ladybug, and soon the room quieted once more. Adrien sighed at the table, reverently placing the hat that Ladybug had picked up and moving it near the back. “Just in case she comes back and wants to buy this,” he explained to Gabriel when the elder man raised an eyebrow.

Gabriel wanted to retort that it was unlikely the heroine would return, and he shouldn't waste a potential sale should someone else come along wanting it, but just then Marinette reappeared, panting slightly and holding out a paper tray with cups.

“Sorry I took so long,” she gasped, setting the tray down on the table and lifting the cups out one by one. “There was a _huge_ commotion in here and it was so crowded I couldn't get in at all. I had to wait until everyone left.” She squinted as she read off something on the side of one cup before holding it out to Gabriel. “Darjeeling white tea,” she said, handing him a covered paper cup. Steam wafted out of the tiny opening. He accepted with a surprised thanks, astonished she knew his preferred drink.

“Ladybug showed up,” Adrien explained as she peeked at another cup.

“Really?” she exclaimed. “Wow! I can't believe I missed it. Did you see her?”

“Yeah.” And there was the dreamy sigh. Gabriel wanted to slap his son upside the head so he would see sense, especially after he spotted Marinette's crestfallen expression that escaped his son's notice. He was so obtuse it practically hurt to watch.

“Oh,” she replied in a subdued tone. She handed another cup to Adrien. “Coffee with lots of cream and sugar,” she said (and Gabriel suppressed a wince at the sickeningly sweet concoction his son adored) before grabbing the last cup out and stowing the paper tray safely away from the table.

Adrien smiled as he sipped his coffee. “She stopped by our booth. She said your work was amazing.”

That earned a tiny smile from Marinette. “Really? But it was all your father's designs,” she said.

“Don't sell yourself short,” Gabriel spoke up, feeling the urge to propel this young woman into a higher standing in his son's eyes. “You wouldn't have nearly as many items to display today if it wasn't for your expert assistance.”

“Father's right, Marinette,” Adrien said, and Gabriel mentally celebrated as his minor plan succeeded. “Your work is fantastic!”

“But we haven't sold anything yet,” she lamented. “It must not be _that_ good.”

Adrien set his cup on the table and placed his hands upon her shoulders. “Cheer up, Marinette. We've only been here for two hours. Most of the convention goers probably haven't even had time to register and check in yet. We have all weekend.”

“You're right,” she said, straightening up.

“Besides,” Adrien added with a wink, “we wouldn't want you to get akumatized by Hawkmoth now, would we?”

She giggled as Gabriel nearly choked on his tea. “What do you think my akuma would be?” she asked in a teasing lilt. “The Cashier? Making sure you _check out_ the merchandise at the convention?”

“ _Con_ -vict. It's _criminal_ to leave without buying anything.”

“That's a pretty good one, Adrien,” she said, her giggles turning into full laughter. Gabriel set his cup down on the ground so he didn't crush it in his carefully concealed annoyance. He desperately wanted to interrupt the two.

“Thanks,” Adrien said with a smile. “I'm a pun-master,” he added.

“You could give Chat Noir a run for his money.”

“A pun-off,” Adrien agreed. “I would win, of course. I could take on that cat any day.”

“Careful,” Marinette chided. “You'll _cat_ ch the attention of Hawkmoth and then he would feel obligated to join in. You've seen the names of some of his akumas.”

“Pfft,” Adrien said, waving a hand to dismiss her. “I could take them both on and win.”

“Oh? That's quite the arrogant statement, Adrien Agreste,” she shot right back, her hand on her hip. “I didn't think you were the type.”

The cheeky grin remained. “I know when I can win something, and if it's a pun-off, I'm your man.”

His words sunk in almost immediately and Marinette dropped the confident attitude and morphed back into the stammering flushed teenager. “O-of course, you probably would because you're amazing at everything, I mean, but you already knew that of course,” she babbled.

The older designer's sanity was saved by the arrival of a patron, who immediately gushed over their wares and the fact that Ladybug personally stopped by the booth. Word spread quickly, it would appear.

“Ooh, I'm going to buy those gloves over there,” she said, pointing at some jet-black gloves with lime green stitching and tiny delicate golden bows at the wrists.

After she left, Adrien turned to Marinette in glee. “Our first sale!” he exclaimed. She beamed at him and they both celebrated. Gabriel smiled at their joy.

“Congratulations,” he praised with sincerity. They both turned to him.

“Thank you, Father,” Adrien exclaimed.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Agreste,” Marinette chimed in.

That first sale seemed to be the key that unlocked the rest of the people around them. Not too long after the lady left, several more people swarmed to the counter, all propelled by news of Ladybug personally stopping by their booth to see what all the fuss was about. Gabriel wasn't too particularly pleased that the fans only stopped by because of Ladybug, but he kept quiet as his son and his friend efficiently sold item after item. Ladybug was the hook that drew customers in, but Gabriel knew it was their superior quality merchandise that made them commit to a purchase.

The two teens worked in perfect tandem, and if Gabriel didn't know any better, he would suspect these two had been partners their whole lives. Were they really that close in school? Adrien greeted the people with an award-winning smile and deferred all technical questions about their fashion decisions to Marinette, who answered them expertly. Gabriel thought he would have to answer a couple of questions on cleaning or other stuff, but Marinette dealt with everything perfectly. The only thing Gabriel did was handle the money and stepped in once or twice when the kids weren't sure about pricing.

He still had plenty of opportunities to watch as Adrien craned his neck around the convention hall, straining to catch a glimpse of Ladybug. He noticed how the boy carefully studied each girl that approached. The excessive amount of attention he paid to them (well, excessive to Gabriel's sharp eyes, but to anyone else they just passed it off as normal celebrity kindness) added to the flushed, starry-eyed expressions and more often than not, resulted in a sale.

And he guarded the blue cloche hat with a ferocious possessiveness. When Marinette lifted it off the rack to allow a lady to examine it closer, Adrien kindly but firmly plucked it from her hands and replaced it, explaining that it was reserved and unfortunately unavailable for sale.

Marinette's frown of disapproval mirrored Gabriel's, and when the lady left empty-handed, she rounded on her friend, saving Gabriel the trouble of having to chastise his son.

“What was that about? That lady wanted to buy that hat,” she exclaimed.

“It's reserved, sorry.”

“You never told me that. We could have packed it away earlier to make space for other items. Who bought it?”

Adrien studiously avoided her eyes. “She hasn't bought it yet,” he said. “But Ladybug said she wanted to.”

Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Gabriel wondered what the meek girl might do. After all, she wouldn't really jeopardize her friendship with her crush, would she?

“So you haven't sold it yet,” she clarified, her voice low and deadly and for some reason Gabriel wanted to step back from her even though he was already seated. “You wasted a perfectly good opportunity to sell something on the off-chance that Ladybug would come back. Is that what you're telling me?”

“She said she liked it.” Adrien either didn't notice or wasn't affected by her icy tone. Gabriel wouldn't put either possibility past his son at this point.

“So you think that Ladybug, who is so adamant about keeping her identity secret, would come in here and purchase a one-of-a-kind hat and wear it in her civilian form?”

“No one else knows that,” Adrien said.

“Except you, your father, and whoever else happened to be here when she said she liked it, plus anyone that might have captured that moment on camera. Except for them, you mean?”

“It's not that many people.”

“She won't even divulge her identity to her partner, do you really think she would slip up around you?” Adrien was silent. “The first rule of selling is you actually have to sell things. If I had a euro for every time someone told my parents that they would come back and purchase something but we never saw them again, I could buy my parents' bakery and send them away on an early retirement to the countryside. And here's something else for you to think about. What if that woman you just declined the sale to was Ladybug in her civilian form, huh?”

Adrien blanched and Gabriel choked on his drink. Ladybug... civilian form... was that _her_? It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not immediately launch himself in pursuit of that woman. Fortunately, no one appeared to notice his minor heart attack. Mostly because his own son appeared to be having a similar freak out at the table.

“C-civilian form?” he stammered, his face pale.

“Yeah, unless you think that she would come over as Ladybug, purchase the hat _as Ladybug_ , and then proceed to wear it around Paris.”

Thankfully, another round of customers approached, successfully distracting both of the fuming teens. Gabriel slowly got his breathing under control as he vowed to keep a more careful eye upon the patrons. He noticed the other vendors glaring at the sudden crowd around their booth. Why didn't he think of this earlier? Irate street vendors would make _perfect_ akuma fodder. He glanced around, wondering if he could slip away enough and akumatize someone. Maybe... he pressed a finger to his lips. Maybe if Ladybug showed more favoritism to this booth, that would further anger the other vendors. He would definitely have to keep an open mind and a watchful eye on his surroundings.

He couldn't let an opportunity to grab the Miraculouses escape, after all.

After the next group of customers left and the sales had been sorted out, Adrien stalked around the table. “I'm getting hungry, and it's close to lunch. I'll go get us the drinks this time,” he called out behind his back as he strode away, his shoulders squared in anger.

“Ugh,” Marinette released a huff of irritation, flopping down on the folding chair. It flexed alarmingly under her sudden weight, but the girl appeared not to notice. She fiddled with something on the table.

“I know my son hasn't had any real life experience selling anything before today, but perhaps you were a little bit harsh on him,” Gabriel spoke up, lifting his eyes from his tablet. He had resumed poking around on it while the teens concentrated on their sales and kept their irritation with each other in check. He closed the map of the convention hall which he had been studying, trying to find spots to easily transform and escape notice of the crowd.

She squeaked and flipped around, and this time the chair _did_ collapse. Marinette flailed for any sort of handhold, latching onto the edge of the tablecloth. It slid easily off of the table. The chair deposited the girl in a tangle of limbs and cloth onto the hard floor. Gabriel shot to his feet immediately, a million scenarios flying through his mind of him standing in the bakery explaining to the distraught owners how he accidentally killed their only daughter.

A groan of pain sounded from beneath the cloth and as Gabriel knelt down beside the lump, the fabric moved and a head peeked out. Flaming cheeks greeted him.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

“Just my pride,” she admitted. “I'm pretty clumsy normally.”

“I didn't mean to startle you,” he said, offering a hand. She waved him off and rolled over onto her side. “Did you forget I was here?”

“Maybe,” came the low mumble of a reply.

“Oh.” He hadn't expected her to answer in the affirmative – the question was more rhetorical than anything. Apparently his skills of stealth were greater than he previously believed. Maybe he _could_ sneak away and akumatize someone.

Or maybe she was too distracted from her argument with her crush to notice anything else.

Marinette picked herself up off the ground and dusted her clothes, checking for rips and tears, while he replaced the tablecloth and sign and fixed the chair. She sat back down in it, sheepishly glancing over to him as he settled back in his own chair. “I was a bit mean to Adrien, wasn't I?” she asked in a quiet voice. “I don't know what came over me.”

 _Jealousy,_ he almost said, for he knew the different shades of that monster well enough to relate. He thought for a moment. She took his silence as his normal cold self.

“Sorry to have bothered you,” she said.

“I'm here to supervise,” he answered. “But I won't interfere with his decisions. I admit that I find you're a good influence on my son.” More so than his other choices of friends and one that he hoped would drive out the other hero-influence of Adrien's desires.

“I just don't see why that hat matters,” she said, and Gabriel refrained from grimacing. He wasn't exactly a heart-to-heart kind of guy, least of all with a love-struck teenage girl, but it appeared the dam had burst and there was no stopping the deluge. “It's a hat that Ladybug said looked cool, right?” He wondered if she expected him to answer, but she shook her head and continued on. He eyed his tablet and mentally weighed the risks of attempting to grab it without drawing her attention. “But that doesn't mean she wanted to buy it. She was just being nice, right? She must have done that to every booth here. Stopping by and commenting on their merchandise. She's trying to get people to spend money and make this convention a success. I don't know why everyone is so fixated on her opinions. It's not like she's a fashion expert. Why does he care about her ideas more?”

She was starting to display more of those delightful negative emotions. Such a shame that he had no akumas nearby to take advantage of the situation.

And just like that, the emotions faded. He blinked at the sudden change.

“Oh, who am I kidding, of course everyone values her opinion. She's even got your approval.”

Huh? What was she talking about, his approval? Ohhhh right, his cover story.

“Only because she's saved my life previously. Chat Noir, too,” he felt obligated to add. “Of course I am a huge fan of the two heroes.” He was pleased that he managed to spit those words out without a single grimace or sneer. He mentally patted himself on the back in congratulations.

Another flurry of commotion caught both his and Marinette's attentions. She groaned. “Ladybug again?” she mumbled.

He really hoped not. He didn't want another encounter with the costumed heroine. As the crowd drew closer, he realized he got his wish. It wasn't Ladybug.

It was Chat Noir. And he slunk through the mass of people with the prowl of a hunting jaguar. His luminous green eyes were only fixated on one thing: their booth.

Oh boy.

“Is he...?” Marinette breathed, and Gabriel wondered if she swooned over all green-eyed famous blondes, or if his son and this hero were the exception. Her expression hardened. “He _is_ ,” she muttered as her eyes narrowed.

“Hello there,” the other half of the duo of Paris greeted with a half-cocked grin and a fully cocked attitude. His eyes slid over the booth, taking in their wares before settling upon Marinette. “This is a very nice setup you have going.”

“Chat Noir! Thank you!” she gushed, and Gabriel could almost see the stars in her eyes. The black-clad hero widened his grin and leaned across the table.

“You're welcome,” he complimented. “Is there anything for the hero of Paris to buy here?”

“I think I might have just the thing for you,” she chirped and turned away. Once her back was to Chat, her star-struck expression dropped instantly. She rolled her eyes and mouthed something silently as she picked through the items. Gabriel did a double take, his mouth agape at the change in attitude. Was this whole thing just a charade for her? Was she _mocking_ Chat Noir? Marinette straightened at last, something clutched in her hands. She plastered the same over-the-top smile upon her face as she turned back to Chat. “Here you go,” she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched and excited. “It was designed with you in mind,” she said.

Chat perked up and grabbed the offered item. He unfolded it and discovered a cute scarf, jet black with threads of neon green and gold woven at the ends. “Wow, this is really good,” he exclaimed, examining the threads in the light. “Did you make it?”

“No, Mr. Agreste designed it.”

“That explains why it's such high quality.” His gaze drifted to the elder designer.

“Thank you,” Gabriel said. He wondered if he should say something more to the hero. Before he could come up with anything, Chat shifted his attention back to Marinette. He grinned at her.

“Can I buy it?”

Marinette smiled. “That's why we're here,” she said.

“Great!” He made a show of patting his pockets. “But I don't have any money on me right now.” He leaned forward with another wink. “Do you think maybe you can hold it for me?”

She smiled. “Sure, at least until someone comes and wants to buy it.”

Chat blinked. His smile slid from his face. “You wouldn't reserve it for a hero of Paris?”

She flicked his bell. “A sale is a sale, Chat,” she replied. “It's nothing personal, just business. But if you're concerned, we have a whole line of scarves designed with you in mind. Even if this one gets sold, I'm sure we have plenty more Chat Noir-inspired merchandise to _suit_ you.” She winked.

Chat Noir backed up from that, his expression indecipherable. “Ah, well then I most certainly shall return. Until then,” he said, bowing in his usual dramatic fashion before sauntering away. “Oh, by the way,” he called over his shoulder, “I love the pun.” With a two-fingered salute and another smarmy grin, he vanished into the crowd.

Marinette chuckled as she folded the scarf back into a neat square.

“You're not a fan of Chat Noir?” Gabriel asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Oh, I'm a huge fan,” she replied. “But sometimes his theatrics can get a bit... tiring,” she admitted.

“Why pretend, then?”

She fiddled with the scarf for a long moment before shrugging and setting the fabric aside. “I don't want to hurt his feelings,” she said.

He didn't quite know what to say to that. The thought that a superhero would need to have their feeling spared... did that mean Chat Noir wasn't as surefire and arrogant as he portrayed? Could he use that in the future?

A swarm of giggling girls approached the counter then.

“Can we see that scarf that you showed Chat Noir?” one asked.

“Sure,” Marinette said, retrieving the scarf and handing it to her. Her friends crowded around her, oohing and ahhing over the scarf. Marinette smiled and lifted a box on top of the table. “I didn't set them all out, but this is the collection of Chat Noir scarves.”

The girls descended upon the box like a pack of vultures. They complimented and praised all of the designs, comparing each one and getting the opinions of the friends. Gabriel ignored them and turned his attentions back to his tablet. It was only after the gaggle of fangirls departed and he saw Marinette tucking the empty box under the table that he spoke up again.

“Where did you put the scarves?” he asked.

“I sold them,” she replied.

“All of them?” His eyes widened.

“Dropping a very loud hint in the presence of those girls about having an entire line of one-of-a-kind scarves in a Chat Noir-themed collection did the trick.” She smiled. “They were happy to each get unique items to wear and still display their individuality.”

He didn't know what to say. He was stunned that she manipulated the situation to her advantage and still sold a good chunk of merchandise. He wondered if he actually created some Hawkmoth merchandise if she would be able to sell it. Before he could think further, Adrien arrived, carrying another cardboard tray with cups on it. He handed one to Gabriel and hesitated before handing one to Marinette.

“I wasn't sure what you liked,” he admitted. “So I just got you green tea.”

“That's fine,” Marinette replied. “I like green tea.”

Adrien fiddled with his cup for a while, sipping in silence before he turned to Marinette. “How did you know our favorite drinks?” he blurted out at last.

Marinette eyed him over her lid. “Your father has stated his preferences in interviews in the past.”

“And me?” Adrien prompted. “I'm not too certain I've ever been asked my favorite way to take coffee,” he added with a grin.

“Ah, well you know at school when you go to order from the little café cart out front?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“I paid attention.”

Gabriel hid his smile at his son's dumbfounded expression with a sip of his tea.

“No way,” he said. “You knew my favorite drink just because you overheard me telling the barista?”

“Not just yours,” she replied.

“Really?”

“Try me.”

“Alya.”

“Caramel mocha latte. Extra shot of espresso when she's feeling tired.”

“Okay that's an easy one, she's your best friend.”

Marinette smiled. “You're the one who asked.”

“Nino.”

“Chai tea, easy on the milk.”

Adrien grumbled and turned away, causing Marinette's smile to widen. “Fine, what's yours then?” he asked.

“Jasmine tea, extra honey.”

He turned back around, his eyes burning into her. “I'll remember that for next time,” he promised. Her cheeks reddened. Adrien glanced around. “So, anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

The blush faded. “Chat Noir stopped by.”

“Really? Chat Noir? That's awesome,” he exclaimed. “What did he want?”

Marinette pulled at the tablecloth. “Oh, you know, to say hi, check out our wares.”

“Did he buy anything?”

“Well, _he_ didn't.”

“What does that mean? Did he want you to hold something for him?”

“Actually, yes. But I told him that I couldn't. Good thing, too, because right after he left a whole bunch of girls bought all of the Chat Noir scarves.” And Adrien's hand slipped off the table. He struggled to right himself as Marinette turned away and busied herself with pulling out the box from the bakery.

“ _All_ of the scarves?” his son choked out. His eyes flew to Gabriel, looking for confirmation. He returned the incredulous stare with a neutral nod. Adrien's stupor didn't fade.

“Yep,” Marinette answered, opening the box and peeking inside. “A huge group of fans. They each bought one. We're completely sold out now.” She looked up at him with a grin. “We couldn't have done that if I held onto that one scarf. That was the sale that started the whole thing. The _cat_ alyst if you will.”

Adrien was so astonished at her words that the pun didn't sink in. He accepted the offered quiche numbly. Marinette turned to Gabriel and held out the box, rattling off the different types of food inside. He selected a sandwich and one of the quiches Adrien had raved about earlier.

After they finished their quick lunch, Gabriel rose, using the excuse that he needed to stretch his legs to do a bit of his own investigating around the convention hall. Now that he knew both heroes were there, he wanted to see if he could catch a glimpse of either of them. He learned his lesson from the very first fair, and despite the temptation to transform and visit his booth to complete the Miraculous circle, he refrained.

He wasn't about to get chased out of the convention once again.

Instead, he kept his eyes and ears peeled for any hint of the heroes. Rumors swirled around him about the two that had appeared and walked around the vendor's hall, but quickly faded away from there. They didn't show up at any of the panels or the costume contests. So, his position as supervising Adrien and Marinette actually offered him the perfect spot to watch for them. Maybe Marinette was correct and Ladybug had already visited their booth when she was in her civilian form. What if she stopped by when he wasn't there? _What if she was there right now?_

He spun around and hurried back to the the vendor hall. He was _not_ panicking right now. He was merely acting like a responsible guardian, that's all. It wouldn't be good to leave the kids alone for too long. He was in charge of watching over them, and though he personally knew that no akuma would attack right now, he couldn't very well explain that to Marinette's parents if they were to ask why he spent half the day out of sight.

As he rushed back to the booth, eager to see if either of the two heroes arrived, he spied Adrien and Marinette smiling at each other. Adrien pushed a small origami rose to her folded out of some red tissue paper they squirreled away for transportation and Gabriel overheard his son apologizing for how he acted earlier. Marinette accepted the delicate rose with a vibrant blush, and Gabriel smiled as he watched their friendship resolidify with that simple apology. He had made the right decision in trying to push his son and this girl closer together. He slipped in behind them, barely disturbing the rapport that had been reestablished and took his seat in his chair, pulling his tablet close to him to jot down a few more ideas for designs.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, and by the end of the day most of the merchandise had sold out. Marinette frowned as she packed up their meager belongings.

“What's wrong?” Adrien asked, catching her expression. Gabriel also paused in his task of taking stock of their remaining inventory.

“Would we even need to come out tomorrow?” she asked. “We're down to barely one-fourth of our remaining items. Is that even worth spending a whole day here? I know you guys are fans, don't you want to see the convention?”

 _Not a chance,_ Gabriel wanted to reply. Adrien answered before he could.

“I had fun today,” he admitted. “Even if we don't have a lot of stuff to sell tomorrow, I want to come back out.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But I can understand if you don't,” he added.

“No, I do,” Marinette insisted.

“As for the supply problem,” Gabriel said, noting the items that sold. “I think we can perhaps make a few more items tonight to sell. That is,” he said, lifting his eyes from the tablet to fix on the young girl, “if you want to put in more time.”

“Of course!” she answered immediately. “I'll let my parents know.”

“I'll provide dinner, of course,” he answered. “And I have an idea for how we can speed things up. I'll have Nathalie stop by my company's headquarters to pick up some stock items. Gloves and scarves in basic black, white, and red can all be embellished without having to make everything from scratch. That also won't affect the quality of the material, either, which is a concern when one rushes through a job.”

“We can use some of the profits to cover the cost of using your company's stock,” Marinette said.

Gabriel's hand stilled over his tablet mid-way through writing his instructions to Nathalie. He looked at her. “That money is yours and Adrien's.”

The seriousness of his statement surprised her. “What?” Her mouth dropped open.

His frown deepened. “Did you think you were doing this for free? I wouldn't dare ask Adrien or his friend to devote an entire weekend to selling merchandise without compensation. Let alone accounting for all of the work you've put into this thus far.”

“But they're your designs,” Marinette insisted. “I can't take your money like that.”

“It's yours and Adrien's,” Gabriel repeated. “Do with it what you will.” And with that, the matter was closed.

Upon arriving back at the manor, Nathalie approached him and quietly informed him that there were several boxes in the atelier, along with any supplies he might possibly need. He nodded and dismissed her for the rest of the evening, and the three of them quickly settled down.

They worked in silence for a couple of hours – both Gabriel and Marinette concentrating on their precision embroidery and Adrien not wanting to disturb either of them. After a while, Gabriel headed over to examine their progress. Though it wasn't much, Marinette managed to embroider basic patterns in lime green and red upon the cuffs of the gloves. She also worked in small tassels and embroidery on the edges of scarves. Adrien had taken several scraps of leftover fabric and fashioned keychains from them. Gabriel had focused more upon the delicate designs of the hats and greater details on the gloves.

He favored them both with a rare smile. “Very nice,” he complimented and both teens beamed at him. He had no idea why he was encouraging this to progress further. Maybe he enjoyed spending time with Adrien. Maybe he wanted another chance at Ladybug and Chat Noir and needed more bait to lure them in. Maybe he couldn't stand the thought that his name might receive bad publicity if he couldn't supply adequate merchandise.

Whatever it was, he approved of their work. They packed up and headed to the dining room to eat dinner, an affair filled with Marinette and Adrien excitedly comparing stories about their day, their earlier argument long forgotten as they giggled and teased each other. Every once in a while, they would pause in their antics and shoot an apprehensive look at Gabriel, who pretended not to see and focused upon his tablet. The giggles would resume shortly thereafter. It took all of his willpower not to smile fondly at the two of them, and his heart constricted. A lump formed in his throat as his vision swam and he saw his wife sitting on the other side of Adrien, laughing with the teenagers. He blinked, and the vision dissolved.

 _Soon,_ he vowed, _I'll make everything better, I swear. Just a little more patience, my love._

After dinner, he had his driver escort Marinette home – Adrien insisted on going with them. Gabriel retired to his room, where he spent the remainder of the night staring at his wife's picture before surrendering to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! Where did this angst bit come from? Shoo, get out of my crack!
> 
> Phew, sorry about that. Your regularly scheduled crack will continue in the next chapter. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) and [Kellarhi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellarhi/pseuds/Kellarhi) for beta-reading this :)
> 
> Additionally, [Perdita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) commissioned [SinfulPapillon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinfulpapillon) to draw [this scene](http://sinfulpapillon.tumblr.com/post/175675976556/are-you-going-to-be-here-the-whole-weekend) for me for my birthday! Isn't it amazing?? Check out [Sin's site](http://sorakachanart.tumblr.com/) for more of her works and thank you so much Perdita for a lovely birthday present! :D


	3. Day Two - Morning

_Day Two - Morning_

Aldéric Bouchard was one day late to the convention, but he knew that despite this, his wares would still sell out. After all, he had dominated every other Ladybug and Chat Noir fair in the past six months and he knew today would be no exception. He didn't want to waste time showing up on both days of the convention when he knew that he would only need one. As he headed to his assigned booth, he grinned at his nearby vendor neighbors. Some of them waved back, oblivious to his reputation. Some of them ignored him (those he had out-sold in past conventions). His grin widened.

“How are sales?” he asked one of them in passing. He eyed their offerings as they set them on the table, and was not surprised to see slim pickings.

“We're doing fine,” they replied, polite and cordial yet not overly warm or forthcoming.

“You didn't bring much to sell. Did you know that I would be attending?” He couldn't resist the jab. The other vendor paused in their setup and fixed them with an expression that was difficult to read.

“No, we sold a lot of merchandise yesterday,” they replied.

Aldéric masked his sudden surprise. “Well, then, you might as well pack up right now, since I'm your neighbor. Your little felt miniatures won't sell anymore.” He motioned to the tiny dolls neatly stacked on the table.

“We'll take our chances,” came the oddly calm reply. And with a deliberate turn, they faced away from him. The dismissal was clear.

He wasn't bothered, though he was secretly hoping that he could have scared away one of his competitors. Maybe the booth on the other side of him? He couldn't really tell what they were selling. He spotted two kids across the way cheerfully preparing their own booth. Newcomers, as he hadn't recognized them from past events.

The girl's outfit was certainly striking, aimed to draw maximum attention to their booth. Dressed head-to-toe in black, her midnight-black hair was pinned up in the back and stylishly tousled in the front to resemble Chat Noir's. Cat ears rested upon a headband, and Aldéric could see even from here the gold fasteners on the bottom edges. Whoever had made those ears had a good eye for detail. The outfit itself consisted of a black tank top underneath a black leather jacket, with a black skirt and black leggings. Black boots completed the ensemble.

All pathetically normal, except for the stitching. Neon green lining under the skirt peeked through a modest slit. The lime colored stitching edged around the waistband and hemline. The jacket had a gold zipper instead of silver, but silver fastenings on the sleeves. The effect reflected Chat Noir's golden bell and silver accents of his outfit. She even wore a black choker with a tiny gold bell. He had to admit the outfit was certainly an eye-catcher, and would most definitely attract attention to their booth, if the attention being lavished upon her by her blond friend was any indication. And when she turned in his direction, Aldéric could spot the smoky cat's eye makeup illuminating her eyes.

But what were they selling? Were they a threat to him? He decided to investigate.

As he drew closer, he heard the girl giggling at something the boy was saying as she hung up several scarves to display. _Oh wow, these are really good_ , Aldéric thought, doing a swift appraisal of their wares.

“Hello,” he greeted, and the two teenagers paused in their work.

“Hi,” the girl greeted with a beaming smile. “We're not quite open yet, but you're more than welcome to look through our selections in the meantime.”

“Oh I'm not here to buy,” he replied. “I'm one of the vendors.”

“Ah, well uh, nice to meet you,” she replied.

“Just checking out the competition. I wasn't here yesterday, you know.”

“We didn't know, but I don't really consider us competition,” the blond boy stuck in. “We're selling different merchandise than most other vendors.”

Aldéric slid his eyes across the scarves and gloves. “Yes, _shoddier_ merchandise, I see.”

It had the intended effect. Both kids puffed up.

“What?” the girl exclaimed.

“It's clear that your booth wouldn't compete against mine when all you have to offer is second-rate items to the convention attendants. I know that they're eager to lap up any kind of heroic goods, but honestly, you should just stop now and save yourselves heartbreak.”

“Our work is quality, but thank you for your concern,” the girl replied in a clipped tone. Beside her, the boy folded his arms across his chest and leveled his fiercest glare at him. But Aldéric wasn't about to be frightened by a couple of teenagers.

“Just trying to be friendly,” he said. “I've been at every one of these events since the city started having them, so I've seen my share of vendors with subpar offerings get scared away.”

A low rumble of a throat clearing behind him caused him to turn around. He faced an imposing blond towering over him, his ice-blue eyes locked onto Aldéric.

“Did you just insult my designs?” the man asked, his voice low and deadly.

Aldéric gulped, realizing that the man in front of him was probably the creator of most of these offerings. It made him feel slightly better that his items weren't being outshone by a couple of teenagers. That did him no good right now, however, faced with the angry owner of said wares.

“It was merely an observation,” he answered, hoping his pleasant tone would diffuse the man's irritation, “taken from months of experience at these kinds of events.”

“I see. We will certainly keep your _observations_ in mind,” the man said, the emphasis on his word choice not lost on Aldéric. The man clearly saw through his charade.

“Good luck today,” Aldéric said before turning around and heading back to his booth to set up. He finished preparing for the day, all the while glowering at the booth across from him, where two cheerful teenagers finished setting up their booth and the grumpy older man settled down in the back.

Soon enough, the doors metaphorically opened and the crowd rushed into the convention hall for the second day of panels, costumes, and overall excitement surrounding their favorite heroes. People perused his wares, buying here and there, but it wasn't until a couple of hours into the morning that he realized his booth wasn't selling quite as well as his neighbors. In fact, he could say that he noticed a significant decline in foot traffic.

“Are people not buying anything?” he dared to lean over and ask his neighbor, who was in the middle of setting out more merchandise.

“Hmm?”

“I haven't sold nearly as much as I normally do at these events.”

“Oh.” A smug grin. “You weren't here yesterday, so you wouldn't know.”

“Know what?” Aldéric asked, taking the bait.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir visited most of the stalls in this area, supporting most of the local merchants. Especially that booth over there,” they answered with a head nod in the direction of the booth with the two teenagers. Now that they mentioned it, Aldéric _did_ notice that the crowds seemed rather large around that booth.

“What?” he exclaimed.

“Oh, did no one tell you?”

Aldéric glared in response, unable to form the words as he pouted and stared at the booth across the pathway, filling up more and more with adoring fans. Fans that should be flocking to _his_ booth and buying _his_ wares and gushing over _his_ merchandise.

Well now, this just wouldn't do. His fingers danced along the tabletop as he contemplated his moves. “I guess someone will just have to discourage people from visiting that booth,” he declared at last.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel was halfway through reviewing the monthly budget for his company when the first security officer approached the booth.

“Excuse me,” the man said, and Gabriel looked up from his work as the man addressed his son. “We've had complaints of a mob forming around your booth, blocking the other vendors from receiving customers and interfering with their business.”

“What?” both Marinette and Adrien exclaimed in unison. They looked to each other, then back at the officer.

“There's no mob,” Marinette said. Indeed though the crowd around the booth presented a formidable size, surely it couldn't quite be considered “mob-like”.

“I'm sorry,” the officer said, “but regulations state that there cannot be more than six people in front of a booth at any one time. It's in the contract you signed as a participant.”

Both teens turned to him. Gabriel frowned, his fingers already brushing against his tablet to bring up the contract.

The guard turned to the people gathered. “I'm sorry, folks, but I'm going to have to ask you all to form a line over there,” he said, pointing to a spot against the wall. When the crowd began clamoring in protest, he raised his voice enough to carry over the noise. “If you don't comply, I'll be forced to shut this booth down.”

“It's okay,” Marinette called out, attempting to soothe everyone. “We can't help more than a couple of you at a time anyway, so by waiting patiently you'll each have plenty of time and space to peruse our wares. And Adrien and I will be able to assist you more effectively.”

Her words appeased the crowd, who reluctantly shuffled against the wall. A few still muttered angrily, but all of them obeyed the officer. Gabriel finished scanning through the contract, his frown deepening when he came across the relevant section.

“I'm guessing that the security officer was correct, then?” Adrien asked. Gabriel looked up to find his son staring at him expectantly.

“I'm afraid so,” he answered, and Adrien sighed and leaned back against the table.

“I don't understand it though,” Marinette said, tapping her lip thoughtfully. “We had plenty more people yesterday and no one complained. Why is someone so bothered today?”

Adrien turned his head to stare across the room. “Maybe because that someone wasn't here yesterday.” Marinette and Gabriel followed his gaze, discovering Aldéric Bouchard approaching the line of people and motioning to his booth.

“He's stealing our customers,” Marinette exclaimed. Her hands balled into fists. Gabriel reflexively touched his ascot, his fingers moving to straighten it once he realized what he just did. Too bad he couldn't sneak away...

“Adrien,” he said, standing up and approaching the teenagers, “go over and reassure our potential customers. Promote our wares. Miss Marinette and I shall handle the sales until the crowd is a more manageable size.” Anything to take his mind off the potential akumatization.

It worked.

Or rather, his son's charms worked. He mollified the irate consumers while Marinette efficiently channeled her anger (and here, he had to suppress a choked sob at the lost opportunity) into a whirlwind of advertising and expert advice before handing off any buyers to him for payment processing. They made short work of the long line and soon enough the size of the crowd dwindled to a manageable level, allowing Adrien to once again join them and Gabriel to mercifully retreat back into his figurative corner. He still hadn't spotted anyone that could potentially be Ladybug, but he kept a careful eye on anyone who even so much as glanced in their direction. He was nothing if not persistent, determined to make the most of this event and tilt it in his favor.

So when the security guard arrived for the second time that day, Gabriel knew it was no coincidence. Someone at the festival decided to target their booth.

“The size of our customers is within the limits you imposed,” Marinette was saying to the officer. “We haven't exceeded it since you came by last time.”

“That's not why I'm here now,” the man answered. “Unfortunately, there has been a serious accusation leveled at you. Your booth is selling counterfeit merchandise.”

“What?” Adrien and Marinette exclaimed. Gabriel stood and approached the guard.

“What proof do you have of these claims?” he asked.

“That's what we're currently investigating. While we do so, we must shut down your booth until this issue can be resolved. It's standard procedure.”

“What?” the teenagers exclaimed again. Gabriel held up a hand to calm them.

“How long will that take?” Adrien asked, ignoring Gabriel's attempts to diffuse the situation.

“Usually about twenty-four hours,” the guard replied.

“But the fair will be over by then!” Marinette argued. “Surely there must be something that we can do to prove these aren't fakes.”

“I'm sorry, but we cannot ignore such an accusation without investigating.” The guard motioned to another nearby guard. “This officer will remain here to ensure you aren't selling anything else.”

The guard stood beside the booth as the head officer left. Gabriel watched him with narrowed eyes.

“Oooh, I know just who leveled that false claim against us, too,” Marinette growled. She looked across the room at Aldéric Bouchard, who was watching the entire ordeal (along with most of the other nearby booths) with a grin on his face.

“We'll prove that these are our original designs,” Adrien assured her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “We'll clear our name.”

“But by then it will be too late to sell anything else,” she lamented. Her fists shook and Gabriel could sense her anger and frustration rising once more. “No!” she suddenly burst out. “I can't let myself think this way.” She shook her head furiously back and forth, as if shaking water out of her hair like a dog. Gabriel marveled at how her cat ears remained in place and her hairdo still lay perfect. He might have to ask her for the brand of hairspray she used so he could pass the tip along to his hairstylists for photoshoots. “I can't let Hawkmoth akumatize me. Don't think bad thoughts.” She turned to Adrien and then to Gabriel. “Don't think bad thoughts! Think good thoughts! We'll get through this!”

Despite her valiant attempts to reassure herself (and his son and him), Gabriel could still feel the anger, despair, and frustration of the unjust accusation against her. Since they couldn't sell anymore items today, there was no way he was going to let this opportunity slip by.

“I'm going to talk to the officers in charge of the investigation,” Gabriel said, and took off before either of them could answer that. He had to hurry. That girl had a history of spikes in emotions, and he didn't know when her current burst of delightful negativity would fade, especially in the presence of his son. He thought he heard Adrien's voice calling out to him, so he hastened his strides and vanished into the crowd. Once he was certain he escaped, he ducked away into a side room. He knew studying that map all day yesterday would pay off. This particular room hosted the concert series held the previous evening, but now the room was abandoned with half-assembled speakers, cables, lights, and other props used in their show. A chest-high stage curved around the front of the room, and Gabriel hurried over.

“Anyone here?” he called out as a precaution. Hearing no answering reply, he ducked underneath one of the stairs going up to the stage and hunched over as he crawled through the underbelly of the stage. When he was a sufficient enough distance away from any opening, he sat down, crossed his legs, and opened up his jacket. Nooroo flew out, his pale form standing out against the inky backdrop of the darkened area.

“If I cannot assist my son with his little project, then I'll just have to take advantage of a good opportunity to allow his friend to exact a bit of revenge. And maybe acquire a Miraculous or two for myself in the meantime,” he explained to his kwami.

“But Master, I thought you were supposed to protect Adrien and his friend from harm.”

“She'll be unharmed as my akuma. I'll be able to monitor her movements the entire time.”

“And Adrien?”

“He's smart enough to hide when there's danger. Nooroo, dark wings rise!”

The purple suit appeared over his cross-legged form in a flash of light. He focused for a moment, still able to sense the overpowering emotions from Marinette. Good, she hadn't calmed down enough to render his akuma inefficient yet. He summoned one of his energy butterflies to his hands, not wasting time to deliver a beautifully riveting monologue. Still, he couldn't abandon all of his instincts. “Go, my little akuma,” he crooned as the darkened butterfly escaped from his hands, “and extract your evil vengeance upon our wrongfully accused assistant.” Out of habit, he twirled his cane high in his hands, forgetting he was still seated under the stage. The tip struck the top of the stage and ricocheted off the wood, thwacking Hawkmoth over the head. “Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot. “Okay, no cane twirls today, I get it,” he mumbled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad to see so many people enjoying this series! Thank you all for reading!
> 
> Special thanks to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) and [Kellarhi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellarhi/pseuds/Kellarhi) for beta-reading this :)


	4. Day Two - Afternoon

_Day Two - Afternoon_

After Gabriel had left, Adrien turned to Marinette. "Don't worry," he said. "Father will sort everything out. He always does. He's used to having claims of this kind leveled against him in the business, so he always takes steps to prevent those accusations from sticking."

Marinette nodded, not feeling entirely reassured. So what if Gabriel managed to erase the false claims? They would have lost the entire day anyway. All that work last night creating more designs and getting more merchandise ready... all for nothing if they didn't have the opportunity to sell it.

"Hey wait a minute," Adrien said. "Father can just show them his designs! The program he uses to design automatically dates and stamps his logo onto any file, even a rough sketch. He can just show those to the officers and get this cleared up. He even has the receipts documented for his inventory for the basic gloves and scarves we used last night!"

"That's a wonderful idea, Adrien," Marinette praised. "But how will you get him to show the designs before the day is over?"

"He keeps copies in the cloud, and can easily access them on his tablet. I know he likes to sketch freehand on his pad, but he'll always scan them in and upload them to play around with the color palette on his program." Adrien looked around. "Ah! Father forgot his tablet! His designs have to be in here. I know he was working on a few for the new line while he was sitting around yesterday. I saw some of the sketches." He grabbed the tablet off the chair and scooted around the table. "You wait here, Marinette, I'll catch up to Father and give him the tablet back."

Marinette watched with a sigh as Adrien took off after Gabriel's tall form. She was hoping he would be easy to spot, towering over most of the attendees with his tall, lanky form and distinctive ashy blond haircut. Alone and with nothing to do, her eyes drifted around the convention hall and eventually settled again upon Aldéric, now courting several customers that surrounded his booth.

And the anger returned, bubbling up inside her like springwater, welling up from a deep unknown source. How _dare_ he profit from a lie!

"Excuse me, can I buy these gloves?" A voice caught her attention and she turned to find a girl about her age holding up a pair of Chat Noir gloves.

"I'm sorry," Marinette told her, heavy with reluctance, "due to unforeseen circumstances, we're currently closed."

"What?" Dismay flickered across her face. "But I made sure to come back today especially to buy something from your booth."

Marinette felt certain her anger would overpower her, hearing the anguish in the girl's voice. "It seems someone didn't like the fact that we were doing well," she explained, glaring at Aldéric, "and decided to level some serious and entirely false accusations against us. We're attempting to get it resolved as soon as possible."

The girl followed her gaze and her own expression hardened. "That man again," she muttered. "I saw him harassing a merchant at the last festival and vowed never to buy anything from his booth ever. He's a parasite."

"Yes, he is," Marinette agreed, feeding off of the girl's mutual anger. A soft, familiar flutter caught her attention and she whirled around in horror to spot a blackened akuma-butterfly heading right for her. She backed away a step before standing firm, clenching her fists and squeezing her eyes closed.

 _Think happy thoughts,_ she told herself. Instantly, images of the weekend flew through her mind. Adrien and her laughing over a joke. Adrien handing her a cup of tea with a grin and roguish wink. Eating dinner with him the night before, giggling as they reminisced in the day while Gabriel let them chatter as he worked. Sitting alongside him in his car – so tantalizing close that she could feel his warmth seeping into her leg.

The light puff of wind caressing her cheek told her the akuma was right on top of her. She couldn't falter. Couldn't allow any negative emotion to affect her.

"Akuma!" she heard the girl who wanted to buy something gasp, and in an instant there were screams and shouts and cries of fear. Marinette kept her eyes screwed tight, for she could still hear the akuma's tiny wings fluttering right next to her. She took a deep, calming breath and her thoughts drifted further back upon the exhale.

In Gabriel's atelier, with Adrien beside her, concentrating so hard on sewing a button that his tongue poked out from between his lips. His proud declaration when he succeeded and the beaming smile he shot at her when it passed his father's inspection. Her joy as Gabriel praised her own designs and complimented her workmanship, with Adrien standing behind his father's back shooting her silent thumbs up in approval with a huge encouraging smile on his face. The comfortable closeness of him sitting near her, the concentration her work required distracting her from focusing on how close she _really_ was to her crush.

She relaxed.

And in the midst of all the shouting, she sensed the akuma retreating from her. She opened her eyes just in time to see the black butterfly settle onto the change purse of the girl who wanted to buy the pair of gloves. Instantly, the familiar pink mask formed around her face. Marinette wasted no time. She turned and darted out of the booth, sprinting away from the new victim. As fresh screams erupted behind her, she ducked behind a potted plant and flicked open her purse.

"Tikki, spots on!"

* * *

 

Hawkmoth felt the ebb and flow of emotions around his akuma as it fluttered through the crowd, locked on it's target. As it neared, he straightened up, placing his hands upon his crossed knees in anticipation of the moment he connected with his victim.

The emotions waned.

He frowned. Not this again. How is it that volatile girl could spike and cool her emotions so quickly?

"Stay close, akuma, I fear it won't be long before she relapses."

He monitored her mood. His akuma was close – so achingly close he could feel her breath upon the tiny butterfly. Just one little connection...

The akuma retreated.

"Go back, akuma," he ordered.

But it was too late. The akuma fluttered away, and the shock of a sudden connection grounded him. A suitable replacement.

"Pay-tron," he crooned into the mind of the emotionally distraught young woman, "I am Hawkmoth. Your planning has failed you today when your favorite booth got unexpectedly shut down. Your allowance is all saved up and there is nothing for you to buy."

"Yes, and it's not fair!"

"No, it isn't," Hawkmoth agreed, and for once he shared in that sentiment instead of idly feeding whatever promises his victim wished to hear. "I can give you the power to change that. All I ask in return is for a little something of my own to buy: Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses. What do you say?"

"Yes, Hawkmoth. If I can't buy what I want, then everything shall be turned into merchandise. Starting with Aldéric Bouchard."

Hawkmoth grinned as the power flooded through his latest akuma victim. So it seems she also shared something else in common with him: mutual dislike of the rival vendor. This might turn out to be a good akuma after all. Even if she failed, if she could cause a little distress to that irksome merchant, then he would consider it a win.

He mentally observed Pay-tron. She wasted no time targeting Aldéric Bouchard. She flung coins taken from her change purse at people and objects, turning them into fandom products for sale. Each came complete with a little tiny tag displaying the price: Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses. Booths and unlucky merchants were turned into wall scrolls and posters. Fleeing attendees got converted into dolls.

And just as she was bearing down upon her target of revenge, the irritating sound of whirring string announced the arrival of half of the annoyance in his life. This further confirmed that Ladybug was still at the convention. And when the other half of the annoyance in his life dropped beside her a moment later, Hawkmoth knew both heroes had to be close. The incredibly short time frame between akumatization and arrival all but revealed they were in attendance.

Sadly, Ladybug managed to zip Aldéric out of harm's path before the supercharged coin could connect and convert him into a backdrop. He sailed away with a very large shriek of terror. Hawkmoth winced as the noise pierced his ears even through his akuma. He hoped it affected Chat Noir's enhanced hearing, too.

"Pay-tron, if you wish to continue to get revenge upon Aldéric Bouchard, you must first get rid of Ladybug and Chat Noir, who seek to protect him."

"What kind of heroes protect liars?" Pay-tron screamed, and Hawkmoth couldn't agree more.

"Heroes protect everyone," Ladybug replied, and Hawkmoth almost smacked his forehead in reflex before he stopped himself. How utterly altruistic of them. What was wrong with wanting a little payback?

He couldn't help the rather large grin that spread across his face as Pay-tron eventually managed to snag Aldéric with one of her coins, turning him into a neat little wall scroll with his own price tag.

"Very good," he praised, bestowing genuine compliments upon his akuma villain for their success, and feeling immensely pleased with her progress. "Now that you've gotten your revenge, it's time to fulfill your end of our bargain. Bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses!"

"You'll have your merchandise soon enough, Hawkmoth," Pay-tron promised.

Eventually though, Lucky Charm set off a cascade of events that sealed his villain's fate – and released Aldéric Bouchard (and countless other victims) from their artificial prisons. He sighed and released his transformation, not really too irate because this was a spur of the moment idea. He offered Nooroo a bit of his favorite snack as he crawled out from beneath the stage and dusted himself off, smoothing any flyaway strands in his ruffled hair. Any dirt could be safely explained away as him hiding from the akuma attack, so he wasn't too worried about being spotted in the room now. His kwami finished his treat and silently zoomed back into Gabriel's jacket.

Outside of the room, he turned back to the convention hall.

"Father!" The familiar voice caught his attention and he turned to the shout as Adrien ran up to him. Despite knowing his son was nowhere near the akuma attack (he had been monitoring for that through the akuma victim), he still gripped Adrien's shoulders as if to reassure himself his son was safe and real in front of him. "Where are you going? I thought you were heading over to talk to the officials."

Ah, right. His lie. "I came to check on you, of course," he answered immediately. "Are you unharmed?"

"Yeah, I went and hid when the attack started."

"And Miss Marinette?"

His son froze, as if just remembering his friend. The look of dawning horror growing on his face verified that. "I uh... Marinette, oh no!"

"Relax, I'm sure she is okay. Calm down, we don't need another akuma attack because you're panicking, right?" Gabriel knew there would be no attack, but he had to stop his son from bolting from his grip. "What are you doing here?"

That seemed to redirect Adrien's attention. He looked down at his hands before holding up the tablet. "You forgot this. You can show them your designs and prove that our stuff is legit. I remember that your files are all time stamped and embossed with your logo."

That was a good idea. Pride welled up in him at his son's cleverness. He accepted the tablet. "Thank you, Adrien, that was very smart of you. Go check on your friend. I'll join you both shortly."

And Adrien took off before the words had barely left Gabriel's lips.

Gabriel flipped through the images on the tablet, a faint smile of satisfaction appearing as he approached the main security center. This would work perfectly. He would have to reemphasize his thanks to Adrien for the idea. But for now, he had channel his inner André and throw his weight around.

Thirty minutes later, Gabriel led a procession of officers back to his booth. The crowd parted almost instantly in the presence of so many officers and the overwhelming confidence Gabriel exuded. He arrived at his booth, where Marinette and Adrien were seated together, conversing in a subdued manner. They both looked up at him as he approached.

"Father? What's going on?"

He willed himself to show no expression lest he give it away, but something in his face must have alerted the teens because they stood simultaneously. "Did you get the charges reversed, Mr. Agreste?" Marinette asked, holding her fists to her face, her eyes wide and anxious as they stared at him.

This girl was certainly a puzzle, and he tilted his head, wishing to figure out exactly how she could turn her roller coaster of emotions on and off like a faucet. He blinked. Later he could come up with theories. Right now, he had to bestow karma upon someone. It felt odd not to do this as his alter-ego.

"We do apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Agreste," one of the officers was saying. "Your shop can reopen and continue to sell your merchandise."

Marinette gasped in surprise. Adrien pumped a fist in the air with a whoop of joy. Marinette giggled and wrapped her arms around Adrien's neck. "Your father did it!" she cried. He scooped her up and twirled her around before setting her down.

At once, she realized what she had done. A furious blush appeared on her cheeks and she squeaked and dropped her arms. A similar shade of crimson appeared on his son's cheeks as he backed up and ducked his head. "Sorry, Marinette," he apologized, "I got carried away."

Gabriel refrained from chuckling at his son's inadvertent play-on-words, the Hawkmoth side of him giving Adrien a mental high-five.

While the kids continued to celebrate their success, more of the officers surrounded Aldéric Bouchard's booth.

"What's going on, Father?" Adrien asked, coming up beside him. Marinette, still with a faint pink of blush on her cheeks, sidled up next to him and followed their line of sight.

"Just watch, Adrien," Gabriel replied, a strange sort of smile upon his face as he stared at the man from across the way.

"Aldéric Bouchard," the head officer was saying, "you accused a local colleague of counterfeiting wares and selling them. Not only did you accuse a prominent and respected citizen of Paris, but you also accused without proof. This man has provided proof that everything sold in his shop belongs to the intellectual property of his company. Furthermore, because of your accusation and disrupting of the events today, the committee has ruled that you are hereby banned from attending not only the remainder of this convention, but any other convention held in this hall and any other convention that involves Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"You can't ban me from conventions outside of this facility," Aldéric protested, his face growing redder and redder with each decree.

"Not directly, no," the officer agreed. "But word will spread and I believe you'll find your application to sell items rejected at future events."

"This is absurd! Those are fakes over there!"

The officer intercepted him as the man attempted to head over to their booth. "I would think again if you're going to accuse Gabriel Agreste of counterfeiting," he warned.

At the name, Aldéric blanched. Gabriel glowered at him from across the way, and the man shrunk back further. Realizing he had been beaten, Aldéric began to scoop his items into his bag under the watchful eyes of the officers before being escorted off the property.

"Thank you, Mr. Agreste," Marinette's soft voice cut through Gabriel's own mental victory dance. It was eerily similar to the dance he imagined when he finally got his hands upon the Miraculouses.

He blinked, and the dancing butterflies vanished from his mind. "You're welcome, Miss Marinette. You are unharmed from the akuma attack? I would hate to have your parents forbid you from attending another convention on account of my not doing my job properly." His villain job, but she didn't need to know that. He couldn't really insist to her parents that she would have been perfectly safe as his villain. And likely a really powerful one, too. That definitely wouldn't help his argument.

"I'm fine, thanks. I hid when everything started to go haywire."

"That was very smart."

She blushed under his praise and he turned away and went to sit back down. He was tired. Supervillainy and slight heroics didn't mix too well, and his body was reeling from the juxtaposition of each scenario. He chided Nooroo who teased him along the way to the security center about his fresh batch of heroism – at least heroic to Adrien and his good friend. Sure, the charges would have eventually been dropped, but right now he was most certainly a hero in their eyes.

It felt good.

Not that he would admit that to Nooroo. He had a mission. A goal. And the _real_ heroes of Paris wouldn't cooperate and just surrender! Maybe one day he could fantasize about having _his_ alter-ego praised along with Ladybug and Chat Noir's. But today, he'll settle for his son's beaming smile instead of the entirety of Paris.

A young girl ran up to the booth, distraught and in tears. "I'm so sorry," she wailed, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Adrien and Gabriel stared at her as Marinette giggled and waved her hands. "No, no, not at all," she assured her. "I was perfectly safe. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I just got so scared when I saw that akuma heading right for you," the girl continued, managing to quiet her anxious blubbering, wiping away her tears. "I thought you were going to be akumatized."

"Me, too," Marinette said. She smiled gently at the girl. "I just closed my eyes and thought of happy things. I guess that redirected the akuma to you. If anything, I should be the one apologizing."

"It was amazing how you managed to stop it!" the girl gushed. "It was so close to you. It kept hovering near your earrings, then your bell choker, then your headband. It almost touched you several times."

Marinette flushed, and Gabriel and Adrien listened in. Adrien made no effort to hide his astonishment and Gabriel merely wanted to know more about how this girl was able to thwart his akuma. Maybe he could learn from this mistake. What had she done?

"I tried not to think about it," she answered. "But that's all in the past now, and everything worked out okay." She reached into a box and withdrew a pair of gloves. "You can be our first customer!"

The girl giggled and handed over some money. "Okay then, thanks."

After she left, Adrien rounded on Marinette. "You were almost akumatized?" he demanded.

Marinette blushed bright red again, now that her crush's intense gaze bore into her. "W-well, maybe? I guess I was angrier over that man's accusations than I thought."

"How did you stop the akuma from targeting you?"

Gabriel leaned forward, eager to hear her reasoning. She had been demurely modest with her customer, but perhaps she would be a bit more truthful with Adrien.

"I uhm, I thought about uh... well, about the booth," she said, her blush deepening, and if Gabriel wasn't so interested in hearing how exactly she defeated his akuma he would be fascinated with how red this girl seemed to be turning. "I uh, just thought of you encouraging me, a-and our first sale, and working side by side with you in the last few weeks in your father's atelier..." she trailed off. "I guess you could say that you're the reason I wasn't akumatized."

Adrien blinked in surprise. "Oh."

Her eyes blew wide. "It wasn't just you, of course. I mean, of course it was you, you're awesome like that... but... uh... well, it was you... a-and your father, of course! Designing with him and you know..."

Wait just one minute. _He_ was part the reason she wasn't akumatized? That wasn't right, he was supposed to be the reason she _was_ akumatized! Maybe he would have to amp up his critiques and sharp-tongued assessments.

Adrien's laughter cut in through her babble of an explanation, interrupting his irritated thoughts as well. "I'm honored, Marinette. I didn't know our friendship meant so much to you. I'm happy you weren't akumatized."

She smiled bashfully at him. "Thank you, Adrien."

 _Well_ , he thought as he watched the two of them interact, shy and innocent, _maybe sacrificing one potential akuma opportunity was worth it to see Adrien like this._

He turned away and sat back down in his chair, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him.

It turns out that news of the commotion and subsequent expulsion of Aldéric spread like wildfire through the convention. The vendors wasted no time gossiping among themselves, and in turn, Gabriel's name was whispered along with that of Ladybug and Chat Noir's.

The fans flooded the booth. Within an hour, their stuff was picked clean. Sold completely out.

Gabriel watched as the two teenagers began to strike empty boxes, flattening them for easy storage and toting home. Adrien set the equipment next to Gabriel along with the metal box of cash. He didn't want anyone doing a snatch-and-grab of either the valuable equipment or their hard earned money while the two teens were distracted cleaning up.

Adrien pawed through the boxes for a moment before straightening and looking around. "Did you sell that hat? The blue one with the ladybug path?"

That caught Gabriel's attention because he had been keeping a careful eye on that hat as well, in addition to any interested party in the hopes he might recognize Ladybug in her civilian form.

"Yes, not too long ago," Marinette answered, bending over and reaching for another box.

A choked sob of anguish threatened to bubble from his throat, for _how could he have missed this?_ Fortunately, Adrien seemed to follow a similar line of thought.

"What? When? Who bought it?"

Gabriel tried really hard not to act interested, but he couldn't help it. He zeroed in on Marinette, watching her with baited breath as she set a small box on the table and turned to Adrien.

"I did," she said, reaching into the box and withdrawing the hat. She held it out to Adrien with a small blush.

Gabriel felt his heart rate return to normal. _So Ladybug didn't end up getting the hat,_ he thought. _A pity. That would have been the perfect identifier._

"I know how much you really wanted to give it to Ladybug, so... here you go. It wasn't fair of me to have yelled at you yesterday." The blush on her cheeks deepened and Gabriel wanted to simultaneously gag at the obvious infatuation and smack his son in frustration over his obliviousness.

Adrien accepted the hat with a small smile, turning it over in his hands as he examined the delicate pattern once more. "Nah," he said at last, reaching up and plopping it firmly upon Marinette's startled head, "you keep it. I think it looks better on you anyway." He ended with a wink.

She gaped at him for a long moment. "Y-you mean it? But you really wanted to give it to Ladybug," she said.

He shrugged. "I would rather you have something to remember this convention by."

 _As if she would ever forget this weekend,_ Gabriel thought. Clearly his son needed another nudge in the right direction.

"I had a great time this weekend, and it was all thanks to you, Marinette," Adrien said.

"Me, too, Adrien. Thank you for inviting me." She abruptly turned to Gabriel, who instantly buried his head into his tablet and pretended to not have been listening. "And thank you, Mr. Agreste, for allowing me to assist you both in designing and selling your merchandise at this convention."

"You're welcome, Miss Marinette. Your talents made this booth a success."

She flushed and turned back to Adrien. "I'll be a bit sad tomorrow when I don't have anything left to do."

Adrien smiled. "Well, we didn't get to look at very many things this time. Would you like to come with me to the next convention? I'll show you around. Make up for commandeering all your time this weekend. Well, the last two months, actually."

She gaped up at him. "M-me? Next time?"

 _Oh, please say yes,_ Gabriel thought, _anything to get me out of attending another one of these blasted events._

"Sure," Adrien beamed. "Maybe not all weekend, since this has become kind of a tradition between Father and I, and I know he would be disappointed if he couldn't go."

_No, I wouldn't!_

"But," Adrien leaned over and mock-whispered to Marinette, "I think he secretly likes to check out things without me there." He winked at her. Gabriel scowled at his son. Marinette took no notice, and giggled at his antics.

"I would like that, Adrien," she answered.

"Perfect! We'll coordinate the next time there's an event in town."

The grin on Marinette's face stretched so wide it threatened to split her face into two.

Immediately, a microphone was thrust in her face. She blinked as a camera flashed. That caught Gabriel's attention.

"Hello, Marinette," the person greeted.

"Hello, Mrs. Chamack," Marinette replied.

"I got word that your booth sold completely out of merchandise, mostly propelled by visits from Ladybug and Chat Noir. Care to give a short statement on that?"

"Well, it isn't my booth," Marinette began, "it's Mr. Agreste's. I was just helping Adrien out by selling a few things."

The reporter flickered her gaze from Marinette to Adrien and briefly to him before landing back on Marinette. "Well, then, congratulations are in order to you as well, Mr. Agreste," she answered. He inclined his head politely.

"What do you plan to do with the money?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "The children have put forth ample amount of time and dedication to this event. The money is theirs to do with whatever they wish."

Nadja turned her microphone back to rest between Adrien and Marinette. "Well, then, what plans do you both have for the money? Any ideas on branching out and selling things full time?"

"I don't think we're going to do that," Marinette said. "The designs were created by Mr. Agreste, and I don't believe he has any plans to sell them through his company."

"But I think I have an idea on what to do with the money we made this weekend," Adrien cut in smoothly. He leaned forward and whispered something into Marinette's ear, who nodded in approval. Adrien smiled and turned back to the microphone. "We're going to donate it all to a charity to support Ladybug and Chat Noir! It's only fair that we do something to help the heroes that have helped all of us, right?"

Nadja laughed. "What a brilliant idea! Well, congratulations again, Marinette. And you, Adrien and of course you as well, Mr. Agreste."

She departed with her cameraman in tow, already scribbling something down on her notepad as she walked away.

And with that, the long, tiring event came to a close. Gabriel relished the idea of having his future afternoons free of giggling teenagers (even if said teenager _was_ exceptionally talented, he grudgingly admitted). He could finally put this wild idea of Adrien's safely behind him. And he managed to make it through an entire event without something backfiring on him! _Maybe these things weren't so bad, after all,_ he thought as he watched Adrien and Marinette sneak peeks at each other. At least Adrien isn't so infatuated with Ladybug anymore. He could safely say that this weekend worked out in his favor.

Until he caught a glimpse of the headline in Monday's paper. A headline Adrien joyously read aloud at breakfast, much to Gabriel's horror.

_FASHION MOGUL GABRIEL AGRESTE DONATES PROFITS FROM MERCHANDISE LINE TO LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR CHARITY_

He didn't know what was worse: the fact that they credited _him_ with starting a fund in honor of his mortal enemies or the fact that both Adrien and Nathalie seemed to revel in the idea that the whole city knew of his growing 'fanboy-ness' (as his son dubbed it). Adrien waved the paper gleefully at him all during breakfast. Nooroo flipped through one in his atelier before lunch. He discovered three copies on Nathalie's desk that afternoon.

He burned them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I'm already working on another story in this universe, and the theme was hinted at in this current story ;) Hopefully it won't be nearly as long as this one was!
> 
> Special thanks to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) and [Kellarhi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellarhi/pseuds/Kellarhi) for beta-reading this :)

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a four chapter story (I didn't mean to make it so long!) Since the individual chapters are somewhat short, I'll be posting on a Wednesday/Sunday schedule so you won't have to wait too long between chapters.
> 
> Special thank you to [Silvanon of the Orchard](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/636385/Silvanon-of-the-Orchard) for the idea of Gabriel running a booth.
> 
> Also special thank you to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) for beta reading this and brainstorming the various plotlines and details with me. Check out her works, she's been doing amazing stuff for [Adrienette April](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185776/chapters/32698707) and [Adrien Appreciation Week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556903/chapters/33635733)!


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